I Love Acid
So we're chillen downstairs, smokin a bowl, and I just starting
springin to Jungle when a guy I know asks me if I want anything.
No thanks, Im not rollin tonight. Were just gonna
smoke bowls, ya know... Ive got acid, K, ...
Wait, what? What? Youve got Sid? I go from
being annoyed at the offer to exited. This is my first chance
to drop L in almost exactly a year, an I have literally been
fantasizing about it lately. On the other hand, I am scared because
I dont know what its like anymore, its been so long.
So I turn to Bill, and say Yo, fool, my boy over here has
L, are we gonna fry tonight? I mean, are you down? I
guess. says Bill. OK, well take two hits each
(including Steph, that came to a total of 6 hits, which I managed
to negotiate down to $25, a $5 savings.) We are all nervous,
but we are trying to be cool. The guy gives Bill his two hits,
and reaches over to puts the other four in Stephs shirt
pocket. I give him the money, and he is gone. OK, Steph,
bust out the L. I say, anxiously waiting for Steph to pull
the hits from her pocket. Instead I get a I dont
have it. from Steph.
But Steph, he just put them in your pocket. I saw him
do it. I calmly add. Steph starts to check all of her pockets,
not knowing at all where to start. Babe, he put them in
your shirt pocket. She pulls out a tiny little bit of white
lint and holds it in the palm of her hand, for all to see.
We slowly, carefully start to look at each other, trying to
find the little bits of paper that may be stuck to her clothes,
may be on the floor, or may still be in the dealer's pocket.
So, here we are $20 later: Bill has already taken his two hits
while we don't even know where ours are. We look for the confetti
shaped drug at least ten more minutes before giving up, but no
need to panic. Hey Steph, lets go smoke a cigarette, Okay?
We swim through a thick mass of hot and sweaty bodies until
we finally get into the even more crowded outdoor smoking area.
I find a seat for Steph and say, Now, Steph, youre
a smart girl, why dont you tell me what happened to the
sid. I saw that guy put it in your pocket. And then, for
the first time, I realized that Steph doesnt have a clue.
The girl is kayed out of her mind. Babe, the sid is in
your pocket, Im sure of it. Why dont you check carefully?
I cant, its too dark.
Hang on I turn to find somebody with those little
L.E.D. light thingies, and sure enough somebody is walking right
by me, a rolled cande raver... Hey, can I use your lights
for a minute? Aww,,uhhh,, no-I gotta go to the bathroom
real bad. Oh, Cum On, man! plur it out dude, plur!!
Aww,,OK. I light up Stephs shirt pocket, and
moments later, she finds the first slightly oversquare green
rectangle. She plants the paper near the middle of my Cherry
Jolly Rancher. She finds the next one and eats it. As she finds
the third green frog brand LSD I gesture for her
to hit my lollipop on the B-side-which she does. Then she finds
the last one, and eats it. I eat mine, victoriously chewing the
paper bits with my front teeth and the mission is accomplished.
As she swallows the dose, she says Mmmm, that is real acid
recognizing the metallic chemical taste and tingle as it goes
down her throat.
A smile stretches across my face as I realize what I have
just done. I have taken two hits of acid, the king of all drugs.
There wont be any "oh wait, it's going away, I need more,
bullshit" tonight. Two hits of decent acid is a 100% guaranteed
8 hour excellent adventure, I know this for a fact. Just then
the jungle MC that lives in my head lets out a big loud Can
I get a Deep Fry??? I say, kenah getta muthafukin deep fry inside!
On one hand I was a little nervous, since acid is supposed to
be the big bad wolf, but on the other hand, I remember once telling
myself that I should absolutely never worry about being able
hang on two hits.
Over the next four hours, in no particular order, I did the
Asked girls to model orange juice for the camera
Look at Steph in a new light, as a person I have seen change
over the years.
Have rude thoughts about complete strangers (What the fuck, does
she think that Cande is a fashion?)
Watch the party kids in the happycore room endlessly bounce
at 175 bpm (Those kids are just fuckin crazy! On one hand, the
dancing was kinda simple -read boring- on the other hand, I cant
do that for 3 hours)
Pack tooth decay promoting Jolly Rancher lollipops into the
space between my teeth-(one of the rarely talked about dangers
Say things that were so ridiculous and off the wall that people
around me could not help but crack up (whether I was a clever
and witty or a fry-tarded idiot would probably depend on your
frame of reference)
Smoke and share a nearly full pack of Parliament menthols
-admiring the hologram on the box more than once.
Say exactly what I was thinking to the perfect brunette wearing
just a black bra, matching black underwear, and raver pants that
somehow managed to hang on to her hips. Specifically, Thats
Think about my family, and our dog.
Listen to Jungle downstairs, which was not as unintelligible
as the last time I heard it frying. Maybe this Sid was not as
strong, or maybe I have listened to so much Jungle since then,
that the mystery is gone.
And only God knows what else. When I fry, I turn into my acid
super self, who I am deep down inside. Im free of inhibition,
and completely comfortable about it. The things I like, I love.
The things I dont like, no matter how small or how trivial
the reasons why, I cynically hate. I have lots of energy, and
never get tired. I consume everything as it happens, turning
a common moment into a universe in and of itself that centers
on that one simple event. I like who I am more than when I an
on E, although others may disagree. When I roll, emotions emerge
that make me weak. I feel sympathy, jealousy, loneliness, attraction,
affection and closeness. (The feeling that lead to hurt feelings.)
When I fry, I feel confident, arrogant, superior, perfect, and
attractive. Its easy to act that way, and its a safe
attitude to have. I dont care if people like me, I hardly
care what they think at all.
When I saw Bill at five, the first two hits were just starting
to taper off. Fortunately, he had come across some free hits
and saved an extra one for me. Just what I needed to get me through
work, which was to start at ten. It was the easiest decision
I had ever made in my life. Confirmation came from the MC that
lives in my head, who yelled at the top of his lungs in an impossibly
ripped up and bassy voice,
Bring it back, bring it back, bring
it back one time. I need to know, can we get a REFRY?
(Then I met Chelsea)